


When the Sun Goes Down

by humbug_lovebug



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Milex - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Drugs, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, References to Drugs, Sub Alex Turner (Musician)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humbug_lovebug/pseuds/humbug_lovebug
Summary: Alex wanders the gloomy late night streets of London night after night, looking for his next client to afford rent or get his next fix. Into his life wanders the mysterious 'Mr. Kane', a new client Alex finds himself immediately drawn to. Will he remain a late night guest or will desire grow for more than just pleasures hidden in the shadows?
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 36
Kudos: 67





	1. Is This What You Wanted?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fine fellows! I've had this idea on my mind for a few weeks now so I thought I'd give it a whirl! (Yes Don, it's totally smart to start a third story while you're simultaneously writing two others! (,:) Don't fret though I still plan to finish my other two, although My Mistakes Were Made For You still needs structuring work so that one might be a bit, but I hope to update it soon!
> 
> Anyways I do hope you enjoy my new story, which I already have mostly planned out (thank god)! So I hope you enjoy this depressing story!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. :)
> 
> Cheers!<3

“Oh _fuck_ baby, do you like takin' Daddy’s cock?”

Alex had found himself bent over the bed of some seedy hotel, oh how he dreaded work sometimes. He fakes some moans, barely stiff enough himself to consider the sex anything above serviceable. The man grips tightly onto Alex’s curls, forcing him back, earning a real sigh from him. His fingers dug into the sheets, musty and smelling of mothballs and kissed by cigarette tips that burned their memories into the cotton.

_At least he’s good at one thing._

“I can’t _hear_ you slut!”

“Mmm y-yes sir!” He managed to choke out, his mind elsewhere, mainly on the line of coke waiting for him in the bathroom, already cut, dollar bill curled up right beside it, the glistening powder oh so eager to be inhaled...

_“Fuck!”_

And with that, his job was done. The stranger, whose name he’d forgotten right after they’d met, got off the small boy, Alex falling into the bed panting slightly. Not the worst sex he’d had for blow, but nowhere near the best. He lay there a moment, in a primarily still intoxicated state. The guy was fast, not much that he cared, as the blow in his system still had yet to wear off. His heart pumped and flared against his rib cage as though it were trying to break free of his body, his fingers twitched and his arms wiggled some beneath him as he pulled himself up and off the bed. His destination was the bathroom, part of his payment awaiting him.

He gazed for a moment at his reflection, his pupils largely dilated, small tremors shaking his body. Fingers fiddled with the rolled bill as he inhaled the powder quickly. Fingers ran to hold his nose as he coughed slightly at the sensation, praying it didn’t result in a nosebleed. But his vessels held strong, shaking his head at the rush. Was it worth being bent over by an older man Alex would call less than attractive? No, but the cash was.

“You alright in there laa?”

In his rush, Alex had almost forgotten the man that owed him money for such a weak act.

“‘M fine,” he says, exiting the bathroom and sorting through the mess of sheets for his clothes. “Yer blow ain’t too bad, but I’ve ‘ad better.”

“Hard to come ‘cross better shit than that today, how much do I owe yeh?”

Alex’s mind raced a mile a minute as he attempted to put on his pants whilst racing through numbers. Drugs and multitasking never matched well with him, especially if he was just starting a high.

“Umm…150?”

The man sifted through his wallet, handing the boy the notes before turning on the TV and forgetting his existence. Alex rolled his eyes as the man flipped through shows, continuing to dress himself as fast as possible to get out of there. Even if the sex was bad, it wasn’t as bad as the awkward conversation that normally followed his visits with clients. Some asked him to immediately get out, others wanted him to stay longer to cuddle or even stay the night, some offering extra. But he always refused to stay, even if it meant extra cash. He liked leaving with at least some of his dignity, not that he had much these days. Once dressed, he pockets the bills and immediately makes for the door.

“Can’t yeh stay to cuddle, laa? Be nice to have someone sweet to hold.”

A shudder travels up his spine, he’s not sure if it’s the coke or disgust. He doesn’t offer the man a side glance.

“Sorry sir, don’t care to stay long afta.”

And with that, he makes for a swift exit before the man can ask anything else. He slams the door shut, shivering as he hurries off into the cold night air. It looks as though it had rained some while he was doing his unspeakable acts in the shadows, as he soon steps into a puddle, wetting the cuffs of his jeans. He groans, shaking it off and wrapping his coat more tightly around himself when a cool breeze nips at his nose. He despised this town more every second it seemed. The scenery was nothing to gawk at, but what made it worse was the scum excuses for people Alex fucked every night for just a few pounds and another line of coke. Always in seedy hotels, sucking them off in back alleys, or anywhere else their disgusting hearts desired. Men who often had wives or girlfriends hiding in the shadows of their sexuality and only making due with call boys like Alex when they hadn’t been able to get their rocks off since their wedding night.

The streetlights illuminate him like headlights from the heavens pointing out the joke his life has become. Everyone told him he had such a promising future, from playing in the pubs of Sheffield as a young lad, he set his sights on a higher end school in London to study music, his dream. But all he’d done since he’d gotten here was waste away and wither into the jaded shell of a man he now was. He fumbles in his pocket for his cigs, lighting up once he finally managed to get one out, thinking almost fondly back to the bright eyed boy he used to be. But that first party that first year of school, it had been the time of his life, followed by another, and another, to the point he forgot what day it was and what was due when. Because at those parties, with those nameless blokes and birds, he could be someone else for an evening. The only good thing to come from those hazy nights was the clarity of his sexuality, making out with every cute guy that offered another tab or another bottle or another line of some new adventure. The memories make him queasy, a tremor sifting through his body and making him near the sensation of vomiting.

_Like there’s anything that’d come up other than whisky._

A car flies past, knocking all the potholes of the street and jolting it every which way as it splashes water close enough to wet the bottoms of Alex’s pant legs further. It was too nice for the neighborhood, a sleek, shiny Lincoln that glistened in the streetlights, screaming money. Alex snorts at the idea of such high society gracing this side of the city with its presence, giving it the finger as it speeds off into the night.

He suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, his blood turning cold before being greeted by the smiling face of Jamie, a...work acquaintance. He claps him on the back with a chuckle, nearly scaring Alex out of his skin.

“Al! ‘Ow’s the night treatin’ yeh?”

He blows out a small breath, shrugging, “Could be better, coming off a high from some weak shit, me pupils ain’t even that dilated. Shit was bolax, an’ me brain was too scrambled to charge the bloke for more. Got two lines of shite coke an’ 150 out of him.”

“I thought yeh said the stuff was shit, but yer head was so fucked yeh didn’t think ta charge him more?”

Alex rolled his eyes at the lad, punching him hard in the shoulder.

“Like yeh coulda done better at the start of a high or drunk off yer arse like yeh were last night!”

“Hey I still made 250 off that old bird!”

“Sod off!”

They were pushing and shoving like school boys, laughing and mocking the other for the weaker pay. Times like these with Jamie almost helped him forget the shit hole he’d managed to dig for himself since he dropped out. But it was rare they got much time to spend together, as Jamie had a family to worry about. He only worked the streets to have enough to pay for his wife’s medical bills and have money saved up for the new kid on the way, he also worked a day job, unlike Alex, as a waiter to help pay the rest of the bills. He had told Alex that he planned on giving up shagging old birds for cash once the baby had arrived, and Alex didn’t blame him.

“Katie an’ I got this new place,” he smiles, shaking his head. “She’s been losin’ it gettin’ baby stuff! She’s already painted his room an’ everythin’.” He pulls a photo out of his wallet, ultrasound pictures, extending them to Alex. “I know yeh probably don’t care--”

“'Course I care!”

Alex looks over the pictures smiling, thinking about the idea of playing with the little boy, giggling at his cute gibberish and all of his firsts like the estranged ‘uncle’ Jamie has decided to name him. Until a pit of loneliness falls into his stomach. It hits him that he really has no family to go back to at night, no warm body to crawl into bed next to, or kids to wake him up early in the morning. And his parents had almost completely cut him off since he became a miserable drop out. He was...alone.

He nods, smile faltering, handing the pictures back.

“I’m really happy for yeh, Jamie.”

“Thanks, Al.” Jamie’s smile soon falters slightly as he seems he’s biting back words. “But um...yeah think when yeh visit, yeh can come by sober?”

Alex gives him an awkward glance, an empty laugh soon following.

“Wot yeh think I’m just constantly high or summat? That I’d be round yer tyke coked out me head?” It came out more defensive than he intended, but he was taken aback at the simple idea Jamie would think he would be drugged up around his kid.

“Al, tha’s not what I’m sayin, it’s just Katie--”

“Oh it’s Katie who thinks I’ll be coked up round yer kid? The fuck does she know bout me life?”

“Al yer always on summat! An’ if not, yer out lookin' for summat.”

The words hung in the air like the smoke wafting from the last bit of Alex’s cigarette. He swallowed hard, biting back bile as he dropped his cig, stamping out the last of the embers.

“‘M gettin’ back ta work.”

Alex immediately quickens his pace and lengthens his stride, heading for a nearby bar he frequented these times of night. Jamie calls after him, trying to apologize saying “he didn’t mean it that way” and “he shouldn’t have said nuffin at all.” But he still said it, the words from one of his only friends stung like hard whisky hitting the back of your throat. But at least you can get drunk on whisky.

He strolls with his head high into the bar, sliding off his coat and making his presence known as he fluffs his curls and scans the crowd of hungry men for his next paycheck. The top buttons of his shirt are soon undone as he parooses the pool, setting his sights on an old regular at the pool table, arm pulled back ready to shoot his shot until he sets his sights on Alex. The lovely distraction causes him to scratch. The boy strides right up to him, giving a childish grin.

“Oops, thought yeh were a regular pool shark.”

“I am,” the man says gruffly, his arm quickly snaking around Alex’s waist, pulling him in, their bodies crashing together roughly. Alex’s doey brown eyes, rounded by dark circles, still have their innocent luster as they gaze up at the man. “But it’s ‘ard to shoot straight when me favourite lil boy is such a perfect distraction.”

Alex giggles, biting his lip and stroking back his curls, he’d gotten good at faking this act over the years. Dominating and nasty sells fine, but cute and innocent keeps them coming back for more.

“Are yeh angry wif me?” Alex whispers, bending close to his ear, his voice soft and sensual, dripping with feigned desire, his hot breath sending shivers up the man’s spine.

“How could I ever be mad at you?”

The man’s hand grasps around a shot glass sitting near the edge of the pool table, the only full glass among three or four empty shots. He brings it to Alex’s lips, Alex shotgunning the stinging drink immediately, making a sour face with a small cough. He never much fancied shots, but this client in particular always enjoyed their time more when neither was particularly sober.

“The usual then?” Alex giggles, his head swimming a little as the man nods, whisking him away to the bathroom.

\---

His calloused fingers grace the worn out strings of his busted acoustic, ringing out lightly in the early morning hours. It was nearing 6am, he’d had maybe two hours of good sleep with an hour of tossing and turning in increments in between. He’d gotten back to the apartment around 3, assessing his earnings and hiding them in a hidden fold of his guitar case, he’d been robbed before and he’d be damned to let it happen again.

A few notes rung out from the old guitar that struck a chord with Alex, quickly jotting them down in his notebook. It was music he never cared to share, kept only for the mold lined walls of his apartment and his own ears. But it was a healthier way of expressing himself that didn’t result in overdoses and risk of disease, or death. He hummed the simple two chord tune, smiling a bit at the sound, daring to sing the chorus in the early morning hours, to hell with waking anyone.

_“I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven hour flight or a 45 minute drive…”_

Tears pricked at his eyes as he lightly sang, his smile fading as the memories that wrote the song all flowed back.

_“In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs…”_


	2. Scheduling Insanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I haven't updated anything in a hot minute, I've had writer's block. :')
> 
> But here's a new chapter of something! I'm maybe halfway through the new chapter of Dracula Teeth also so hopefully expect an update on that one soon also!
> 
> I also love writing from Miles' perspective for some reason??? Anyways hope you enjoy!
> 
> Cheers! <3

_Christ this bloke is a weak bottom._

The only thoughts that cross Miles mind as he plows his unresponsive submissive pick of the evening. Just jerking himself off would be more effective in actually getting himself off, at least he was close.

_From doing all the fucking work._

He hated unresponsive pillow princes that just liked getting fucked without putting in any effort, just cause it’s a one night stand doesn’t mean you have the excuse to not put in any work. All this bloke offered were small grunts and an occasional _“just like that.”_ It’d been nearly an hour, he’d already gotten the guy off well within the first thirty minutes but he couldn’t even bother to give him a blowjob to help Miles out so he could get his orgasm and be on his merry way. He finally gives up, pulling out and effectively jerking himself off in frustration, like it was even worth it anymore. He huffs a sigh, grabbing the guys clothes and throwing them at him.

“Alreyt, get out,” he sighs, fisting his hair and tugging at the roots. “If yeh can’t even bother to 'elp me get off then get lost.”

“Someone’s pissy, christ it’s not my fault yer an old man who can’t get his rocks off.”

“I’m fookin 32!”

“Fuck someone yer own age then.”

The guy quickly pulls his pants on and starts heading for the door, giving Miles the finger as he slams in shut behind him. Miles hands balled into fists over the ordeal, he wasn’t an old man.

_I ought to have socked the fucking brat in the face._

He storms off to the bathroom in order to save his ruined orgasm, stroking himself and trying to get it bloody over with, maybe then he’d be less pissy. Hand grasped around his barely throbbing member, he glances up at his reflection. His face was flushed, as if he’d just run a marathon trying to get himself off, the few wrinkles around his eyes more prominent. He really did look older. He finally manages to finish himself off, a weak orgasm but he could care less at this point. He quickly cleans himself up, rushing to put his clothes back on. He just wants to go home, tired and disappointed with his evening's efforts.

 _God, really am sounding old, it’s not even midnight._

He heads down to the lobby, practically throwing his useless room key at the poor concierge on duty late at night and paying off his bill. He calls up his driver before stepping into the cool night. The frigid air whips around him as he instinctively wraps his fur coat tighter. He never much cared for this side of town, so run down and shabby, he felt extremely out of place in his high profile clothes and stylish car. He lights himself a cigarette as he waits for the car, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he ponders memories of better sex and his glory days. Or at least the days he had responsive bottoms.

His sleek white lincoln slides up to the front of the hotel within a few minutes, and he eagerly climbs in, chucking his cigarette aside and dying to get home and curl up in bed with his guitar, he had an unfinished tune he’d like to ponder.

“Home please, Will.”

He stares out the window as the city flies past him, a sad silence enveloping him until his driver, Will, decides to break the ice.

“How was your evening, Mr. Kane?”

Miles huffs, tapping his fingers feverishly against his seat.

“It was...an evening.”

Will nods, picking up on his signals to press no further. The car suddenly lurches forward as they hit every crevice in the street, both men swearing under their breath. Miles' gaze returns out the window, now only further frustrated, catching the glimpse of a boy they passed flipping him the bird.

_Great, second time tonight, kids these days._

He chuckles to himself at the thought of sounding like an old man, hand rubbing his tired eyes. He definitely wasn’t as lively and adventurous as he was in his 20s, then again that was college, a mix of music and business classes with a few parties in between. He looks fondly back on those days, the days before working in a studio consumed him, making other peoples’ music rather than his own. But he’d grown and flourished in the nearly ten years he’d been working, and was highly respected in his field and known across London. All this despite none of his followers and peers knowing of his late night escapades, thanks to the cover of his sexuality that is his sham marriage.

Before long, they reach the outskirts of London, placated with stunning mansions oozing with status and money. The car pulls through the gates once being buzzed in, only to be greeted at the doors of the house by the “lovely” Mrs. Kane. She stands tall with her designer heels and a slimming and tight black dress, arms crossed and lips pouty like a spoiled child. Miles eyes her from the tinted window in his car, eyes rolling, knowing he’s done something wrong. The moment he steps out of the car, she reveals her current irritation, holding out the purse swinging from her right hand, grasping it in her index finger and thumb as if holding something vile. He sighs as he slinks out of the car, slouching from drowsiness and lack of sympathy. He forces a smile as he draws out his overly sarcastic words.

“Yes my darling, wot seems to be the problem?”

The look of disdain remains as her eyes glance at the purse and then back to Miles.

“Can you not see it?”

He rubs his face again, walking past her and through the arching doors with her at his heels.

“It looks like a bag.”

“It looks like an _outdated_ purse that’ll get me laughed at by my friends if I even dare go out tonight,” she huffs, throwing the bag on the ground before crossing her arms again. “You told me you were going to get me a new one yesterday so I could actually go out tonight and not look like a fucking joke!”

Having been busy and asked right before heading to the studio the previous day, it had completely slipped his mind until this moment. And he was certainly wishing it hadn’t.

“I’ll call Sylvia when I get in the office tomorrow,” he sighs, collapsing on the couch and shedding his coat. “Yeh can wait one more night ta go out!”

He was quickly losing his composure, readying to snap. It’s been a frustrating night as is, and of course he comes home to Hannah making it worse. Her lip is quivering as if she’s about to burst into tears, but he barely notices as he slouches over, rubbing his temples to nurse an oncoming migraine.

“But the girls don’t have time to go out tomorrow! And I won’t be able to see them again for another week because everyone is busy!” She stamps her foot aggressively throwing a childlike temper tantrum. “You said you would spoil me but you’ve barely done anything for me lately!” Her tune quickly changes like the turn of a card. “Would be a shame if any rumors got leaked…”

He’s suddenly wide awake, slipping his phone out of his pocket to text his assistant Sylvia the details of the purse his spoiled wife wants.

“What is it specifically? Anything else I’ve forgotten to order?”

His fingers are visibly shaking as they hover over the keyboard, pumped full of sudden adrenaline and fear, ready to tap away. Her lips curl into a smile as she sits next to him, manicured hands snaking around his arm to squeeze him in a faux loving manner.

“Just the newest Louis Vuitton line purse you can find!” she giggles. “Hell, one that’s not even out yet if your gal can pull the right strings!”

He nods, fingers shaking as he types and fumbles to send the message. He hates when she uses this against him, it makes him wish he’d chosen someone else to marry that he knew he could trust not to threaten to leak his secrets every time they didn’t get what they wanted.

“What’s up your arse tonight anyways?” she snorts a small laugh. “Obviously not some guy you picked up!”

Another lovely reminder to the kick off of this dreadful night, and it hadn’t helped that he’d been busy with prima donnas in the studio the entire rest of the day. He just wanted to go out, have a few drinks, get laid, and relax in bed and finally finish that new tune he’d been stuck on. He shrugs, getting up and away from her cold grasp.

“Jus’ rough day I guess, borin’ time out.”

“Some kid blue ball you or something?”

“Sure.”

She pouts again, looking up at him with feigned care.

“Oh come on! You can’t even complain to your wife about your sad and lacking sex life? How dreadful! Poor old man can’t get his rocks off with the kids he meets at the bar!”

His fists clench. She was already pushing it, but of course she just had to strike another nerve.

“Don’ push it, Hannah.”

“Oh don’t get huffy at me just because you got bad head! You really ought to fuck men your own age, maybe then they wouldn’t just care about their own orgasms! It’s why I never fuck younger.”

He runs his hand vigorously through his hair as he walks off, ignoring her antics before she eggs him into doing something he’ll majorly regret.

“Goodnight then!” he calls as he makes his way upstairs to his secluded bedroom. The door is shut and locked as soon as he enters, collapsing into the welcoming memory foam. He hated how big the house was, but he was thankful for the distance between his room and Hannah’s. When they first got married and were actually friends, enjoying a pleasant penthouse in London together, they actually shared a room. Or he’d at least thought they were friends. It wasn’t until she met those stupid high class trophy wife friends of hers that she started turning against him, sure she was with him for the money and status originally as payment for being a cover up, but those friends of hers turned her into a spoiled brat that abused her hold over Miles. He grunts as he digs his fingers into the sheets, pulling himself up to lay back into the bed.

He likes his job, but he hates the people, he likes that he’s able to have a cover, but he hates his wife, and he likes that he doesn’t have to worry about money, but hates the status that comes with it.

_Shouldn’t I be happy?_

He glances to his bedside, eyes locking on his acoustic. He reaches out and snags it, warming up his hands and sliding his fingers gingerly along the strings in a simple melody. He smiles as he recollects his new song, humming the words along to the melody, or what words he’d come up with so far. Music had always been his escape from moments like these, it was something he could control, enjoy, let envelope him. He’d been so busy helping other people with their music in the studio nowadays he barely had any time for his own, but he’d given up making a name for himself a while ago.

He pulls out his notebook from his bedside table, flipping to the page of the work in progress. He scans the lyrics, pencil in hand as he jots down an extra line to the unfinished pre-chorus, strumming the first chord.

_“I’m ridiculed by my fantasy,_

_Scheduling insanity,_

_My eagerness comes untangled,_

_I can’t handle you…”_

He smiles, dreaming of his life before the insanity.

_“At least it will be a thrill, keeping up with you…”_

He’s cut off when startled by the ding of his phone, a response from Sylvia. Bless her for being up so late! He opens the message with a small smirk.

_I’ll see what I can find, I’ll have it sent to you by tomorrow if she can wait that long. Also, happy birthday, goodnight._

He checked his watch and sure enough, it was past midnight already, he’d forgotten his own birthday!

_Bless her, I’d lose my head if it wasn’t for her!_

He sets the guitar back in its stand, shooting her a _‘thank you’_ before changing into silk pajamas. He ponders name ideas for the unfinished song as he curls up in his blankets. He was thankful to have the morning to sleep in, he always took off work for his birthday. He was 33, the number ringing in his head, almost hard to believe he was well into his 30s. He’s soon whisked away into slumber, dreaming of ideas for spending the day off.


	3. He Looks Like Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God-freaking-damn this is the longest chapter I've ever written, all I'm gonna say is don't expect these lengthy ass chapters too often. XD
> 
> Honestly, this one has been my favorite to write so far, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. ;)
> 
> Warning LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!!!
> 
> Cheers! <3

Alex rummages through the small collection of clothes he has, pulling out a decent dress shirt and dress pants, both fairly wrinkled to his dismay. He rolls his eyes, pulling his ironing board out of the closet, he may be a whore for cash from older men but he cared about looking decent. While waiting for his iron to heat up, he makes his way back to his bathroom, cutting a fresh line with a blade from his razor. He bites his lip as he quickly rolls the five pound note in his pocket, practically salivating before snorting the fresh snow. Fingers instantly grip the bridge of his nose, leaning his head back, he feels the rushing surge of energy hit his veins. A rippling cold chill travels up his spine.

_Finally, some good fucking shit._

He returns to his iron with a fresh burst of energy, his phone suddenly buzzing. He answers it without a second thought, mistakenly not reading the caller ID, starting his ironing and shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“‘Ello?”

“Alex honey, it’s Mum.”

_Shit._

He freezes, hands trembling.

“Yeh ‘aven’t answered in a month or so sweetie, everythin’ alright?”

He instinctively nods and remains silent before realizing she can’t see him, stuttering in the silence, coke still fresh in his system.

“‘M fine, Mum, sorry, ‘ve joost been werkin’ lot, nights mostly.”

“Still at that same bar as ‘fore? Hope yeh aren’t werkin’ yerself too ‘ard.”

“Well um,” he chuckles nervously, shrugging to himself. “Gotta pay the rent.”

“I joost worry ‘bout you sometimes, dear, eva’ since yeh dropped out--”

“‘M fine, Mum.” He said it more forcefully than he intended, but he just wanted to be left alone. He loves his parents dearly, but if they knew what had become of him…

“Alreyt,” she sighs, pausing. “I love you, Alex.”

“You too Mum. I gotta get ready for work.” He hangs up before she can respond, sighing. The iron is steaming at this point as he chucks his phone on his moth eaten couch, finally getting around to the wrinkles.

_They wouldn’t understand the way I live._

The iron glides quickly over the fabric, he folds it to the front of the shirt.

_It’s not like I need help, I’m fine._

His hand twitches slightly unexpectedly, he occupies the other by running his fingers through his bouncy curls.

_She shouldn’t worry so much, maybe she just thinks I’m a disappointment, maybe she knows and she just pities me, maybe that’s why Dad never calls, he knows, he doesn’t tell her because he’s trying to protect her, maybe--_

His index finger grazes the edge of the iron as he twitches again, sending a searing pain through his hand.

_“Fuck!”_

He rushes to the sink, running his finger under freezing water, seething at the pricking pain. As the water runs and his finger numbs and blisters, his eyes float to his reflection. The bags under his eyes have grown from a lack of sleep, a redness seeping into the whites of his eyes ever so slightly, his pupils still dilated from the line, and he was pale as ever. His eyes dart back to the blow he has left, maybe three lines worth.

_Ought to savor it, should wait to have another before I leave. I can wait._

He forces himself away from the temptation and back to the ironing board...where the iron had laid on the shirt and scorched the damn thing beyond repair. He rapidly unplugs the bloody thing, grunting in frustration.

_Fucking fantastic start to the evening._

\---

Alex finally manages to make it to his most frequented up scale bar at a decent hour, having decided on a much more casual look with the ruining of his dress shirt, throwing on a decent t-shirt and slacks with boots and a leather jacket for the fucking freezing March weather. The idea that it was St. Patrick’s day had completely slipped his mind, and of course he hadn’t remembered to wear green and already had his ass pinched by quite a few random guys at the bar, and Jamie.

He’d already given two handjobs in the stalls within the hour he’d been on the clock, amping up for an eventful night to possibly make up for the shit way it started. He was in desperate need of rent money and more coke, especially since he’d been drawn into temptation to snort two of his three lines he’d had left before leaving for the evening. He wanted to kick himself for it, but it was boosting his eagerness tonight even with the loss of his good shirt, so he thought to hell with it.

His eyes soon center on another old regular of his, a guy who likes shows, which Alex loves to charge extra for. He slides his way into the man’s view, recognition twinkling in his eyes as soon as they lock on Alex. His lips twist into a devilish grin at the sight of the boy.

“Yeh miss me?” Alex pulls his pouty, innocent look, blushing like a baby doll. The man’s hand was on his hip in an instant.

“Yer not wearing green, Mark.” The pseudonym rolls off his tongue as his hand curls around Alex’s ass, pinching eagerly. Alex giggles and feigns surprise.

“How dare!” he smiles jokingly. “Yeh know I don’ like yeh touchin’ less yeh want summat…”

“Course I want summat…”

“Can yeh at least buy me a drink first?”

He calls to the bartender, Alex giggles again, twisting one of his curls along his index finger, attention driven elsewhere to the crowd while his client orders him a margarita. His eyes scan the crowd for another prospective client, as this one was easy and wouldn’t last him long. His heart stops when he locks eyes with someone.

A newcomer he assumes, or maybe he’d just not been here at the same time as the nights Alex worked this particular bar, because he’s impeccably impossible not to notice. It’s as though time had frozen as they gazed at each other, and Alex took the time to take in every little detail. He wore a tailor fitted suit, sleek and slimming black that clung to his lanky frame, matched with a green scarf for the occasion and a white dress shirt with a gold chain glistening barely visibly along his collarbone. He oozed money and sex appeal, and Alex is biting his lip to fight back drooling when his current client pulls him out of his daze.

“Margarita for my favourite sweet boy!”

He slips the drink into Alex’s hand, Alex nodding as he was still slightly taken out of his act by this stranger.

“T-Thank yeh sir,” he stutters, slipping back into his routine as he takes a large gulp of his drink. He can’t get distracted right now he knows, rent is on the line. He works his pouty boy magic and sets his drink down on the bar, still half full. “Do yeh want the usual tonight sir? Yer own private show?”

The man’s eyes light up as he grabs Alex’s hand, eagerness in every step.

“‘Course, laa, been hoping I’d see yeh since I got here…”

He whisks him away to the bathroom, Alex’s eyes darting again around the crowd to get another glimpse at this mysterious stranger.

\---

In the cramped confines of the bathroom stall, Alex strokes himself for the man, he was a voyeurist and preferred only to watch normally. Alex feigned some moans, but this time surprisingly, some were real. His mind was only on the mysterious handsome stranger, hoping and praying to whatever god there was that he was still there when Alex was done. It wasn’t just the idea of having him as a client that got him going, but the idea of being bent over, taken, dominated, actually enjoying sex for the first time in ages and it not all just being for work.

He’s panting slightly as he finishes, one of the more satisfying orgasms he’s had in recent times. His client, also satisfied per usual, hands him a wad of notes before slipping out of the bathroom without another word. This was normally to be expected, older men ashamed of their sexuality often disappeared after they’ve committed their deviant acts with Alex, normally to scurry off home to their wives with their tails between their legs and further hiding their sexuality from the world.

He cleans himself up as quickly as possible, practically darting out the bathroom and searching for this mysterious stranger. He wiggles through the crowded dance area, getting knocked into some by sweaty bodies coked out of their minds more than him, but he didn’t care, he had only one thing on his mind. When he finally makes it back to the bar, his heart is in his throat, his bloody pumping wildly.

“Hello there,” the man smiles, gesturing to the seat next to him as he sips his margarita, another waiting for Alex in the open spot.

_So he was staring back then._

“H-Hi there,” he smiles, sitting and playing up his shy, cutesy act. He always tried to start off shy with new possible clients, but with this new guy...he almost didn’t have to act. “I’m Mark, don’ think ‘ve seen yeh around ‘ere ‘fore.”

He chuckles, and Alex’s heart melts as he sips his drink.

“Call me Mr. Kane. I’ve not been here ‘fore actually.”

“Quite a lively place, but yeh definitely look outta place ‘ere,” Al giggles, nibbling his lip and avoiding Mr. Kane’s eyes. 

_Get ahold of yourself, you’re on the clock._

“Bennie and the Jets” suddenly starts echoing through the speakers of the bar, and a symphony of cheers rings throughout the bar in response. They both simultaneously laugh, Alex blushing.

“Yeh guess I do look a bit outta sorts ‘ere,” Mr. Kane shrugs, sipping his drink. “Doesn’ mean I can’t ‘ave a bit of fun then, especially with Elton playing.” He offers Alex a hand. “Care to dance?”

Alex is breathless as he nods, thankful for the shadows of the bar for hiding his blush. He takes his hand, and they dance themselves silly, singing along with the drunken chorus of all the men around them. He felt so natural around Mr. Kane compared to other clients, possibly because he was actually finding himself having fun as he’s twirled around and wrapped back into his arms. As he’s pulled in from behind on the dancefloor, grinding his ass roughly against Mr. Kane while chanting _“B-B-B-Bennie and the jets!”_ , he’s reminded of his early days of this job, when the fun and orgasms came first and the money was an afterthought. Mr. Kane’s hands slide along his sides, and down his hips as Alex grinds against him, getting him hard rather quickly Alex notes. One hand slides to grope him, Alex inhaling sharply at the unexpected but welcomed contact. Mr. Kane’s lips graze his ear, the hairs on Alex’s neck standing on end as he sings lyrics to a song he never knew could sound so sexy.

“Oh but they’re weird and wonderful, oh Bennie she’s really keen!” He can hear the smirk forming on his lips. “Should we find somewhere more private?”

Words are meaningless as Alex quickly nods, expecting to head for the bathroom, anywhere to get a sweet release from the sensation that was currently building up in him. Mr. Kane grabs his hand, dragging him out of the confined space and outside the bar. He slips out his phone, presumably calling his ride. Alex is blushing again, ready to be whisked away to paradise before the memory of this being his _job_ hits him. He stutters for words.

“Um...Mr. Kane?”

He shoves his phone back in his pocket, humming as he turns his attention back to the boy.

“Y-Yeh should know I’m um...a-a call boy.”

He was prepared to be hit, or told to fuck off as he had by those who had expected a free fuck, but Mr. Kane only smiles, pulling a neatly rolled large wad of cash from his coat.

“How much for the entire night?”

Alex’s eyes are wide as he stutters to do the math. He very rarely had a client who wanted him an entire night, the last time was ages ago around when he first started.

“It’s um…” Mr. Kane waves him off as the car pulls up, shoving the notes back in his coat.

“We’’l figure it out later,” he says, opening the door. “Afta’ you!”

He soon realizes that he’s seen this car before, the very one he’d been splashed by the night previous, the sleek and shining white lincoln he’d flipped off as a thank you for his soaked jeans.

_Small world._

He doesn’t hesitate to climb in, scanning the car. It of course screamed money, stunning and sleek leather seats and plenty of room to move about...possibly for particular reasons. There was a panel of glass separating the passengers from the driver, a panel sliding open in the center of it once Mr. Kane had climbed in with him.

“Hotel sir?”

“Actually Will, home.”

The driver pauses for a moment, both him and Alex seeming surprised. Alex never went to a client’s house, it was always some seedy hotel or in the bathroom of the bar. It almost made the encounter feel more...personal.

“Are you sure sir?”

“Home, Will.”

The driver wordlessly nods, the panel closing. Mr. Kane’s hand grazes Alex’s thigh, and he lays his arm comfortably around his shoulders.

“Do yeh ‘ave any rules, Mark?”

Alex shakes his head before nuzzling closer, leaning into the crook of his neck, breathing deep the scent of his cologne, like pine in the early morning, comforting and light.

“I’ll do anythin’ yeh want, I’m yers all night, sir.”

A wicked grin flashes across Mr. Kane’s face, his grip tightening on Alex’s thigh as he moves it further upwards in a teasing fashion.

“Tha’s a dangerous game, Mark…”

He giggles again, his lips ever so lightly grazing his neck in a small kiss, tongue tracing the area, earning him a shiver and breathy moan, his words dripping hungrily with lust.

“Well...D isn’t joost for dangerous…”

Alex’s body is set ablaze as their lips intertwine, tongues dancing feverishly and trying to taste every inch of each other. Mr. Kane’s hands run through Alex’s hair, gripping tightly at his roots and making Alex gasp. He’s pulled into his lap, a hand running up his back and clawing gashes deep into his skin, a thought in the back of his mind hoping it draws blood. Alex is gasping for breath by the time they separate, Mr. Kane biting and sucking a trail down Alex’s neck. He felt so alive for the first time in ages without any help from drugs, he wanted to get down on his knees and do anything he could to please him, and was dying to be ripped apart by this dominating older man.

Alex’s hand moves lower to palm Mr. Kane’s hard crotch, eager to begin before they’ve even reached their destination. His wrist is suddenly grabbed, and in a swift movement, he’s knocked onto his back, Mr. Kane pinning him down. He’s breathless and wordless, unable to move under his weight. His shirt had become slightly unbuttoned, hair messy, and eyes wild like a predator closing in on its prey. Alex’s heart is hammering in his chest, feeling as though he’s done something wrong.

“Don’ touch me til I tell yeh to, understood?”

Alex nods vigorously, holding his breath. The tension only continues to grow, Alex hanging onto his every word as a drop of sweat slides down his chest, the confined space seeming to grow humid.

“Yer ta call me master or sir only, no Mr. Kane shit then, and I can tease the absolute fuck out of yeh all I want, yer not allowed ta touch yerself unless I say so, understood?”

He swallows dryly, nodding again.

“If yeh attempt to tease more or act like a brat…” he raises a hand, releasing one of his wrists, calloused fingers lightly grazing Alex’s flushed cheeks, and it’s the first time he takes notice of the chunky, probably expensive, rings that decorate his muscular hands. “...yeh’ll be punished. Understood?”

The car stops before he can respond, and Mr. Kane quickly moves to open the door and clamours out of the space. Alex finally finds his voice, hoarse and childlike as he’s offered a hand.

“Y-Yes sir.”

He takes the offer and is pulled from the stuffy confines of the vehicle, only to be greeted by the leeringly tall mansion that stands before him. His eyes are wide as he gawks, but he barely has a second to take everything in as his hand is grasped and he’s drug in through the arched doorway. He has but a second to catch his breath as he’s pressed to the slamming door, wrists pressed firmly into the wood as Mr. Kane feasts on his lips with a quick starving kiss before pulling away and dropping his voice to a whisper.

“Me wife isn’t home, but we still ought ta be careful,” he says, releasing Alex’s wrists and caressing his face gently. “She knows, but she doesn’t like me bringin’ blokes home.”

Alex only nods again, gazing into his bright hazel eyes, hypnotized by their golden green beauty and hanging on every word.

“I don’ wanna hurt yeh too much love,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth. “So tell me if anythin’ makes yeh uncomfortable, understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Alex whispers, a small smile perking up the edges of his mouth. “But yeh should know...I don’ break easy.”

Mr. Kane chuckles, grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs.

“That’s wot I like ta hear!”

They knock against the corridor as they frantically kiss and grope each other, jackets flung off and fingers flying for the remaining shirt buttons and belts as they stumble their way into the bedroom, falling gracelessly onto the bed after slamming and locking the door.

“You best not be a fookin’ pillow prince or I’ll ruin yeh.”

“Well maybe tha’s what I want--”

Alex is cut off with a swift slap and he recoils in slight fear.

"Best not start this off wif tha' bratty attitude!" Mr. Kane sees this, instantly changing his tone, and gently caresses his reddening cheek, kissing the area. “I-I’m sorry laa, did I hit yeh too hard? If yeh don’ want me ta hit yeh I can go easier--”

Alex cuts him off with a kiss, shoving his tongue in his mouth. He’d never been truly dominated like this, but he wants it more than anything, he can’t chicken out after just a slap.

“Do it harder next time,” he whispers coyley. “If I step outta line, sir...don’ hold back.”

“Don’ tell me what ta do, brat,” Mr. Kane sneers, grabbing Alex’s shoulders and shoving him hard into the mattress. “Tha’s my fookin’ job.”

He instantly goes to work tearing Alex’s shirt off, kissing his way down to the edge of his pants, taking his sweet time undoing his belt and pulling down his zipper. It’s as though the sound was amplified in Alex’s ears, his erection throbbing eagerly with every move. Before long, he was sliding his pants down to his ankles, and Alex holds his breath as Mr. Kane takes him in his mouth and goes to work with his tongue. It was rare for his clients to use their time to pleasure _him_ and help _him_ get off since the whole point of the encounter was to get _them_ off. But Mr. Kane doesn’t flinch as his hands move along Alex’s shaft, his tongue flicking along his head before he fully deepthroats him. His eyes roll back into his head, moaning as he bucks his hips upwards, dying to feel more. Mr. Kane doesn’t flinch, and before long kisses his way back up to his mouth, hand still working away along Alex’s shaft, thumb lightly caressing the head. Alex can feel himself about to explode, mumbling and moaning as he’s silenced with a kiss.

“You don’ finish til I say so,” Mr. Kane orders, “an’ now it’s my turn…touch me.”

Alex rips his shirt off, busting the last of the series of buttons and sending it flying across the room. He pushes him pack into the bed, straddling him the same as he’d done to Alex. He licks a path from his stomach to below his earlobe, nipping lightly at his neck as he makes his way back to his beltline, fumbling with shaky hands to undo the clasp. He slides his pants down, eyes widening at the sight. _Big_ is an understatement. His cock is thick, long, and hard, dripping with precum and eager to be touched. Alex more than obliges, stroking the man gently first, his tongue sliding from the base to the tip, earning him a shiver from Mr. Kane as he wraps his tongue around his head, lapping up the drips of precum. He strokes him along the base of his cock as he works his head with his tongue, teasing the slit and egging on the idea of deep throating him. Mr. Kane is panting, hips twitching upwards slight and urging the boy to take him deeper.

“C-Come on laa, take all a me…”

But Alex continues his teasing, enjoying the torturous action and Mr. Kane succumbing to a puddle of lust at the will of his tongue. But he soon has had enough, reminding Alex who’s in charge and abruptly and roughly fisting Alex’s hair and forcing him further.

"I said _deeper_."

He chokes slightly at the sudden sensation, feeling him in the back of his throat. Mr. Kane gasps as Alex’s throat constricts around his cock, head lulling back and grip lessening on his hair. Alex quickly adjusts and continues the act while situating himself more comfortably, moving his mouth up and down his shaft. The string of moans it brought forth were unholy as he proceeds to fuck Alex’s mouth, hips bucking with the movement. Alex feels as though he’s close, the idea of having to finish himself off saddening him some, until his head is ripped back up, eyes connecting with Mr. Kane’s again.

“Yer such a good lil’ bottom Mark…” his free hand caresses his cheek, thumb wiping away the pool of spit at the edge of his mouth. “...on yer stomach.”

Alex’s eyes grow wide, and he’s nodding his head so fast his vision shifts, spots darting in his vision. He lays down and situates himself on the silky sheets, eagerly waiting as Mr. Kane slides open a drawer on his bedside table, pulling out a condom and some lube. Alex is biting his lip as he opens the bottle, squeezing out some of the gel onto his fingers. He gives him a smirk as he positions himself behind him, running a finger down his visible spine, a chill running with his movement. Alex is eager, waiting, gripping the sheets and his fingers turning white, until he hears a small giggle, feeling a hand on his ass, squeezing his left cheek lightly.

“Sorry if it breaks the mood...but yeh have such a cute arse, Mark.”

He cracks a smile, blushing a little, but before he can say anything, Mr. Kane’s thumb is rubbing his rim, the icy cold liquid sending a shocked tremor up his spine.

“D-Didn’ expect tha’,” he laughs nervously, the laugh turning into a moan as he pushes his index finger slowly into his entrance. He slowly thrusts it in and out a few times before adding another, curling his finger as he moves them. Alex is breathing heavily, whimpering and moaning at his every touch as Mr. Kane leans over his body, thrusting faster.

“Who do yeh belong to?”

“Y-you sir,” he mumbles, barely able to speak as he adds a third finger.

“Who’s yer fookin’ master?”

“Y-You are Mr. Kane--”

A hand rips through his hair as he’s forced upwards, startling him out of his lust addled state.

“Wot did yeh call me?”

He stumbles over his words, forgetting he wasn’t allowed to call him that. “I-I’m sorry sir--”

He’s released and falls back into the bed, the weight in the bed shifting as Mr. Kane gets up, and Alex quickly moves to grovel and beg for him to continue.

“I-I’m sorry sir! It slipped, I didn’ mean ta--”

“Did I say you could fookin' speak?” He’d moved across the room, fumbling in another drawer for something, turning around to reveal it as a ball gag. Alex blushes, too afraid to speak and fearing he’ll be into more trouble. He returns to the bed without another word, strapping the gag on the lad. It felt awkward in his mouth, he’d never worn one before, spit pooling at the edges of his mouth. He looks back up at Mr. Kane with doey, innocent eyes.

“If yer a good boy, I’ll take this off,” he says softly, hand running through Alex’s hair. “This is for yer little fuck up, if yeh can’t get it right, yeh can’t speak at all.” His hand suddenly grips at the roots of his hair, making Alex wheeze and forcing him to stare at him. “Understood?”

Alex nods again before being pushed back into the sheets. He hears the sound of something being ripped, turning back to see Mr. Kane sliding on the condom he’d seen earlier, Alex gazing up at him. Mr. Kane grabs hold of his shoulder, forcing him back into the mattress and holding him there. 

“If yeh have any problem at all, laa, joost cross yer fingers and raise yer hand so I can see it,” he says, hand sliding along his side ever so lightly, only to smack his ass and make Alex jolt under him. He laughs, voice getting low, “ready?”

Alex nods furiously, pent up, gagging and ready for release. He gently presses his tip to Alex’s entrance, easing his way inside, and Alex grips the sheets as he painstakingly forces his way further. Once he’s managed to ease his way in, he pulls out and forcefully thrusts his way further, hitting Alex’s prostate roughly. He lets out a small yelp that’s only muffled by the gag, his knuckles white from gripping so tight to the mattress as Mr. Kane starts a steady rhythm, thrusting at a slower pace at first. Once the pain subsides, the pleasure takes over, surging through him immensely and engulfing his body in a flame of rushed endorphins. He’s in absolute fucking nirvana as Mr. Kane quickens his pace, thrusting rougher each time.

“F-Fuck! Ugh yer so fookin tight,” he groans, hands grabbing Alex’s side, fingers indenting his skin. He has no response other than the whimpers and moans muffled mostly by his gag, deeply wishing he could scream out in ecstasy. He hasn’t been fucked like this in years, with so much burning passion, with so much force and energy. He felt like he was 18 again, a virgin fresh to the worlds and wonders sex held, recollecting his first time at a party, high on the drug of the evening and having his first real experience with an older man. It was rough and raw, but lacked the passion that Mr. Kane brought to the table.

“Yeh like takin’ my cock yeh little slut?” he calls Alex out of his near orgasm haze, and he attempts to furiously nod in response, but his head barely falls up and down, moving his hand to touch himself as he nears finishing. A hand grips Alex’s hair again, forcing him upwards. “I didn’ say yeh could touch yerself!”

Alex whimpers, a weak beg to let him get there, so desperately close, his tip a bright red and oozing with precum. But of course, his job was satisfying his client, not himself. Mr. Kane’s grip tightens on Alex’s hips.

“I-I’m close--”

Within seconds, he gave a final thrust before pulling out, Alex assuming he’s finished. Thinking he ought to just finish himself off, he moves his trembling hand to stroke himself, only to be furiously flipped over, Mr. Kane’s mouth on him again. He gasps at the unexpected contact, choking slightly on the gag as he feels so close before finally being pulled over the edge, his spunk sliding down his partner’s throat. He came hard, so much so he was shook with tremors for a few minutes after, lying there practically in awe. His mind was static as he lay there, breathing labored as Mr. Kane crawls his way up to lay down next to him, arm lying across his chest and dragging him closer before unclipping the gag from behind, Alex chucking it aside languidly. He’s chuckling, with the same labored breathing as Alex.

“Fuck...fucking hell Mark, yeh’ve really worn me out.”

It takes a minute for Alex to register his words and for his mind to grasp the meaning. His thoughts are still scattered as he tries in vain to put words together and muster a response, forgetting he’s speaking to a client and letting his words slip without a second thought.

“It’s Alex, actually.”

“Wot?”

He realizes his mistake and thinks he can take it back, but his tongue betrays him, repeating himself, “My name, it’s actually Alex, I just go by Mark for work.” He’d never told a client his real name, and had gone by Mark since the parties in college so he couldn’t be traced if something got messy. His stupified state had led him to let slip one of his many rules, never get too cozy with a client and let slip his real name. But in his current post sex state, he could care less.

“Well if we’re being honest then, yeh can call me Miles.”

He turns to face him, smiling and surprised by his lack of concern for wanting to remain anonymous, “Well...it’s nice to meet you Miles.”

He bursts into laughter, kissing the boy and holding him closer, “It’s nice to meet you too Al!”

They both laugh at their own sheer absurdity, cuddling and enjoying the post sex high. Miles runs his finger through Alex’s hair, twisting one of his curls, an oddly sensual action that leaves Alex fuzzy in the chest. He normally hated clients touching his hair, but it felt calming when Miles did it.

“Shall we go for round two then?”


	4. I'm In Trouble Again, Aren't I?

Alex breathes a heavy sigh, mind muddled by light memories of last night and flashes of long finished dreams, his fingers cascading through a world of smoothe silk as his hands glide along the sheets. His eyebrows knit in his sleep addled state as he slowly comes to life with the realization that this bed is far too comfortable to be his own. He sits up in a flash, eyes darting about the room as his mind tries to refresh itself of the prior evening. Sunlight glides into the elegant room a few feet ahead of him, the only light in the darkened room. He’s laying in the center of a large bed, cocooned in silk sheets. A glass of water awaits him on the bedside table, which he happily gulps down to cure his dry throat.

The memories of the night soon come flowing back; the bar, seeing clients, a little drinking...and the dashing older man he’d gone home with. His fingers play with the sheets as he remembers every kiss, every lick, every thrust the night entailed, hours of sex and pleasure the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in ages. It was starting to make him horny again just thinking about it, until he started to wonder where his partner had wandered off to.

His eyes begin to search for his clothes, thrown about in the midst of the act to different areas of the room. He stretches and makes his way about the large room, gathering each article and slipping them on, readying to make his getaway soon. He slides his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. _8:04am_ , bright and early after maybe five hours of sleep. He rubs his eyes, desperate for something to help wake his body out of this sludge state, a line or a cup of coffee, whichever he could get his hands on first.

He grabs his boots and plops on the bed, the door opening as he slips them on. His gaze flickers to the entrance, his client of the previous evening standing in the doorframe. He looks a little surprised to see him up already. Alex blushes and returns his gaze to his boots, his name suddenly coming back to him, whispered from lust stained lips in between gasps and whimpers, or whilst he held him in the still moments they took breaks to cuddle.

_Miles._

“Didn’ expect ta see yeh up already,” he laughs almost nervous, scratching the back of his neck. Alex nods, feeling awkward and reminded of why he doesn’t normally stay the night.

“Yeah erm…” he stands, brushing himself off and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Guess I um...best be going then.”

“Oh wait, how much do I owe yeh for the night?” He slips his hand into his jacket, pulling out the neat collection of notes. Alex blushes, his brain working to do the math with a lack of caffeine, trying to recall his usual hourly rates. He’d forgotten throughout the night that he was being paid to enjoy every moment, so used to feigning pleasure that he had forgotten what good sex was for the longest time. Miles flicks a few hundred pound notes quickly through his fingers, looking up at Alex with those hazel eyes again. He’s again reminded of what was just a few hours ago, staring into those eyes as he ravaged him, heart pounding out of his chest and scarcely being able to tear away from his gaze.

“Umm...800?” he stutters, lost in thought and his heart irritatingly racing. Miles cracks a smile, handing him the crisp notes.

“Joost take this laa, is a bit more than tha’ but yeh deserve it.” They’re maybe a foot apart, but the temperature in the room seems to be rapidly increasing as Miles closes the distance. “I erm...had the most amazing time last night.” He flicks a card out of his jacket pocket, handing in to Alex. “Call me when yeh get home so I know yeh made it safe, I’d like ta see yeh again.”

Alex nods, slipping the card in his pocket, wanting to say something, tell him how amazing the night was, how alive he hadn’t felt in years as he trembled at his every touch, but instead chose to remain professional, not letting his own experience and emotions cloud his thoughts.

“Happy ta be of service sir, I’ll gladly see yeh again,” he mumbles, refusing to make further eye contact.

“I’ll um...have Hank take yeh ‘ome then, he’ll be waiting out front.” Miles makes his way towards the door, fidgeting with his tie. “I’d prefer if yeh left soon, me wife is still sleepin’ an’ it’d be best if yer gone ‘fore she’s up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kane.”

He turns back to Alex, smiling.

“I told yeh, call me Miles.”

\---

Alex soon follows Miles out the bedroom door and is led down the elegant corridor covered in priceless art and few photographs. He mills about some behind him, taking his time to enjoy the scenery he was too busy being ravaged to enjoy last night. He makes his way down the carpeted marble steps and towards the doorway, Miles giving a final wordless smile and wave as he heads off to another area of the house. Alex takes one more quick look around before catching someone’s eye, peeking out from behind the corner at the top of the stairs, slender manicured fingers snaked around the corner. His eyes widen, realization and fear hitting him as he quickly makes his way out the door, slamming it shut behind him. He makes his way to the car sitting before him, sliding in and quickly giving the driver, who’s name he assumes is Hank, his address and asking him kindly to hurry. They make their way out of the driveway, Alex looking back to the entrance to see her.

She stands watching him in all her glory, cloaked in a zebra print silk robe with hair ruffled from sleep, arms crossed as she stares daggers into the car’s back window and right into Alex. He gulps as the car pulls out the gates and speeds off down the road towards London. He slumps in his seat and sighs.

He slips the card out of his pocket that Miles had handed him, looking it over. It was a business card, his name and job printed in delicate gold lettering on the front, his office phone, email, and studio address printed on the back in the same lettering. Underneath the neat print was some pen scribbling of a phone number different than the office number, his personal Alex assumes. He pockets the card again and stares blankly out the window, watching London flicker by like a film as the image of Mrs. Kane standing angrily on the steps resurfaces, his stomach twisting with dread.

“He shouldn’t ‘ave brought me over should he?”

Hank remains silent the rest of the short ride, solidifying Alex’s assumption.

The car soon makes its way to his bleaker side of London, knocking against the rickety street and pulling up in front of Alex’s apartment building. He mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’ to Hank before making his swift exit, the car soon speeding off back in the direction it came. He gazes after it as it disappears, the pit of loneliness in his stomach making its presence known. He sighs and returns to his shabby apartment, slamming the door behind him and collapsing on the couch.

He slips his phone and the card out of his pocket again, wondering if he should go ahead and call. He felt like he’d just woken up from a dream, getting abruptly shaken back into reality by the jolting of the car pulling up to his apartment as the nightly affairs seem surreal and so distant now. A part of him wishes he could have stayed longer, wishing he hadn’t been so awkward, wishing he’d asked for another kiss before leaving instead of the awkward wave he got. He laughs emptily to himself.

_What the hell are you thinking? He’s just a client, you can’t let your emotions get in the way._

That’s how you get hurt after all, that’s how he’d gotten hurt before.

That’s why he can’t let his guard down anymore than he already has.

He forces himself off the couch, needing something to wake him up from his daydreaming state, setting down his phone and the card on the table. He puts on a pot of coffee and pulls a bottle of cheap whiskey out of his cabinet, mulling over the idea of actual food before deciding on toast. While waiting for everything to finish, he mulls over some lyrical ideas that had come to mind from the night’s escapades.

_The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams_

__Not as daft as they seem…_ _

__

His toast pops, startling him out of his state, grabbing it and buttering it before pouring his coffee followed by whiskey, the alcohol to caffeine ratio leaning more towards wanting to get buzzed. His eyes move again to the card, the shiny gold lettering jumping off the paper and begging him to call the number. Miles’ smoothe voice echoes in his mind, warming his heart.

__

_Call me when yeh get home so I know yeh made it safe, I’d like ta see yeh again._

__

He slides the card closer, typing the numbers up on his phone and dialing as he idly sips his coffee, his heart stupidly racing as he eagerly awaits his client’s voice.

__

\---

__

Miles smiles and waves at Alex before heading into the kitchen for breakfast as his in house chef starts cooking. He pours himself a cup of coffee and makes his way to the table before his eyes flicker to the fast moving figure towards the door. He sips his coffee confused before the realization hits him as he considers chasing after the fast figure, knowing all too well that he’s been found out. His heart is racing as he fears the worst, falling and slumping into his seat at the table, knowing his fate is inescapable. She already knows.

__

Waiting for Hannah to find him and bitch at him and threaten to out him for bringing a boy home, he decides to ponder his evenings events to have a fond memory to take to his grave. He didn’t and still doesn’t regret bringing Alex home, he was the kind of guy that was worth more than cheap hotels, the kind of attractive and sexual aura that deserved something more special than crime scene hotel sheets and smoke stained walls. His experience with him out measured nearly any he’d had, the passion and the drive, it felt real, their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Every kiss ignited a new fire within him, and each individual performance only made the other stronger, they were perfectly matched. Even if it was all just his job to make him feel this way, there was some sort of sincerity in every move, every sound the boy made that made Miles’ insides flutter. It was certainly the best birthday he’d had in years.

__

He’d be damned to let Hannah tear him a new one for this.

__

The front door soon echoes through the house with a slam, followed by the distinct sound of bare feet slapping the floor, trailing towards the kitchen on a mission. Miles sits taller, proudly in a way, gulping his coffee as if it was liquid confidence and preparing himself to stand his ground. She looks as though she’s just fallen out of the wrong side of the bed, no makeup, messy hair, and ready to start a fight. She stops a few feet away from the table, arms crossed and lips pressed firmly in a line. Miles barely raises an eyebrow at her, putting up a relaxed front while screaming inside, trying to remain strong.

__

“Why was there a fucking _street rat_ in our house?”

__

“ _My_ house.”

__

His wording throw her in a loop momentarily, analyzing his response before she spits back at him

__

“ _Our_ house, you didn’t answer my question.” She pauses, slowly making her way to sit across from him, a lioness stalking her prey. “Why was there a _street rat_ in _our_ house?” 

__

He breathes in deeply and releases a long sigh, trying to calm himself and not let her get to him, “Tha’ _street rat_ as yeh call him is a friend of mine.” She gawks at him, about to speak again before he interrupts her. “An’ no Hannah, this is _my_ house. _I_ bought it, _my_ name is on the papers for it, so ergo it is _my_ house. _You_ joost happen to live ‘ere also, because you are the lucky woman who I happen to ‘ave chosen as my wife.”

__

“Just because you own the bloody house doesn’t mean you can bring trash like that into it!” she spits, finally losing her temper. “What if the neighbors saw? He looked pretty fucking young, what if they thought he was _underage_? What if they thought _I_ was seeing him or we were _both_ seeing him? Do you know what that could do to us?” She throws her hands up in frustration. “What if they thought he was a _prostitute_?”

__

“The damn neighbors didn’ see, Hannah, we ‘ave privacy out ‘ere with the gates and walls, I should be allowed to bring blokes out ‘ere as I damn well please,” he sighs, slamming down his mug on the table and enunciating his next words. “It’s _my_ house after all.”

__

She stalks over to him, getting right in his face and shoving a finger accusingly into his chest, her morning breath fanning his face.

__

“You know what I could easily let slip to the press...” she says, her voice low. She slips her phone out of her pocket, opening her gallery and shoving the screen in his face. It was a picture of Alex scrambling blurrily into Miles’ car, the picture didn’t mean much until you put a story behind it. He can see the headline of the tabloid now _‘Kane Caught by Wife Soliciting Young Male Prostitute!’_. Miles swallows his pride and all confidence he had managed to conjure. An evil grin curls on her lips. “I’ll let this one time slide, since you’ve not broken our rules before, hell, I’ve never brought a guy home before!” She turns on her heels and heads for the kitchen. “But if you sneak another one in, I won’t be the only one finding out.” She disappears into the kitchen, Miles’ coffee having grown cold and untouched throughout their conversation.

__

Miles rubs his face as he makes his way back to his room, falling into the sheets and wrinkling his suit, but he could care less. He breathes in the scent of Alex that desperately clings to the sheets, wishing he’d said something rather than just giving an awkward wave goodbye like he would give to a colleague. His confidence always grew when the sun went down, but diminished by the morning, always having been a bit shy and awkward at the end of his affairs.

__

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he slips it out, expecting it to be Sylvia reminding him of a meeting he had in a few hours. He answers in a monotone voice, too drained already to give a damn so early in the morning.

__

“Kane here.” 

__

“Hi, it’s Alex.”

__

Miles’ heart rate increases tenfold, once again wide awake at the sound of the boy’s quiet voice and trying not to sound like a giddy school boy.

__

“Hey did yeh make it home alreyt?”

__

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, “but um...yer wife saw me.”

__

Miles groans at the lovely reminder, sitting up and rubbing his temples, “Yeah laa, I saw, don’ worry ‘bout her.”

__

“Yeh said she knows doesn’t she?”

__

“Yeah she knows, I’m joost not allowed ta bring blokes home cause she’s worried someone’ll see,” he stutters for words. “I-I’m real sorry Al, joost don’ worry ‘bout her. She’s a bit loony an’ controllin’, she lets me do as I please within her rules, tis complicated.”

__

He can hear Alex chuckle on the other end, “Guess tha’ joost means we’ll ‘ave ta be more careful then when we sneak around.”

__

He smiles, his cheeks reddening at the idea of sneaking around again like when he was a teenager sneaking behind his parents’ backs, oh to be young again!

__

“I guess we will.”

__

His watch beeps and he glances at the time, 9am, he needs to head to the studio. He can hear the car pulling up out front, ready to tote him off to his only other escape from Hannah, not that it was always better.

__

“I hate to cut this short, but I ’ave ta get ta work, got a meetin' with a potential band recordin’ in the studio,” he frowns, remembering his lack of availability for the coming days. “But I’ll um...call yeh in a few days an’ maybe I’ll see yeh again. I’m rather busy this week with work.”

__

The line is quiet for a minute, and he thinks Alex has hung up before the boy finally gives another mumbled response.

__

“Sure um...joost let me know then, sir.”

__

The line disconnects, and Miles is left with an aching feeling in his stomach as he trudges back downstairs, woefully unprepared to deal with prima donnas and any other bullshit.

__


	5. He's A Scumbag, Don't You Know?

Alex is jolted awake by his alarm clock, groaning in frustration as he hits snooze. He had been right in the middle of a pleasant dream, reminiscing on it in his half awake state. He’d been with Miles, drinking wine and exchanging soft kisses, it felt so real he wishes he could fall back into it and enjoy the far away dream just a little longer, but he knows he has to get up.

It’s been nearly a week since he’d first seen him, but he was already craving for the sensation again. And sometimes it felt like it wasn’t just the sex he missed, but the way he was treated. Constantly being asked if what Miles was doing was okay, or when he worried he’d gone too far, apologizing and becoming instantly soft, holding him, kissing him...it was a surreal experience being treated like a partner rather than a fleshlight.

His phone buzzes beside him, and his heavy eyes glance at the screen to see a text from Jamie. He squints, surprised, until he remembers why he’d set his alarm for so damn early. He scrambles out of bed and heads to the bathroom immediately after reading the text:

_J: I’ll be at your place in an hour, don’t make me wait ages Al, I’ll kick your arse if you aren’t up and ready._

He’d entirely forgotten his promise to help Jamie pick up and put together the new crib for his tyke, lad had never been much of a handyman, not that Alex would be much help, but it was nice to be wanted and have an excuse to spend time with his best mate.

Once he’s stepped into the bathroom, his eyes immediately shoot towards his coke. He hasn’t had any since last night, having snorted a couple lines to help with his writing as it normally did him well. He moves to cut a line before he’s stabbed with the remembrance of one of his more recent conversations with Jamie.

_Yeh think when yeh visit, yeh can come by sober?_

He freezes, swallowing hard. He doesn’t need to prove nothing to Jamie, right? He can go a morning without anything, he doesn’t need it to function.

_I’m not doing this because of Jamie, I’m doing this to prove it to myself, I can go a morning without it._

He nods to himself, jumping into the shower, the warm droplets helping wake him up a bit more. He lets his mind wander to other things, trying to remember the name Jamie and Katie had picked out for the little boy. She was due soon, within the next few weeks, last time he saw Jamie, he’d been particularly crabby since Katie kept him up often, complaining about pains and being rather moody. But, like the good husband he was, he pushed through and did everything he could to make her feel better.

Alex’s mind drifts back to Miles, the water from the showerhead graces his skin like the soft kisses Miles left on his neck, sizzling the sensation back to his body and he aches to be held like that again. His fingers run through his hair, pulling it back as if to tie it into a ponytail so his face could soak up the warm sensation. His fingers slide across the delicate skin, the already healed marks Miles had left brought back to his memories. His other free hand slides to touch himself, and he lightly moans as he imagines it’s Miles' hand rather than his own. He feels like a teenager in a hormonal throe when he thinks about him, and he strokes himself quickly to take care of the issue, considering it more of a chore than a pleasure.

Once he’s finished, he steps out of the shower to gaze at his fogged mirror, cheeks bright red from the warm water, trying his best to ignore his favourite vice. All he needed was a little kick to wake him up...

_I’ll be fine, I don’t need it._

He dries himself off quickly and steps out of the slowly shrinking place as fast as possible, tripping over the towel into his room to find some comfortable clothes. After slipping on his jeans, his phone rings at his bedside, he answers, expecting to hear Jamie chastising him, assuming he’s late to be ready.

“‘Ello?”

“Hi, Al,” Miles smoothe voice answers. His heart is pounding at the slip of his name, cheeks red still from the shower and only further reddening from the warm sensation spreading throughout his body.

“Been a few days sir, ‘ow’ve yeh been?”

“Fine, was wonderin’ if yer free tonight.”

A smile creeps across his face.

“Of course, sir, was just plannin' on goin’ to the bar anyways.”

“Don’t be messin’ ‘round wif no one else tonight, alreyt?” he says, commanding yet sincere. “Want yeh all to meself tonight. I can pick yeh up at yer place.”

“No no, I can meet yeh out somewhere,” Alex quickly interjects. “Joost make it easier on yeh so yeh don’t have ta come all this way ta the otha’ side a town.”

“Umm...sure? Tha’ works,” he says, a little confused. “Same place we met ‘fore? ‘Ow bout 8?”

“I’ll be waitn’ out front ready sir.”

“Good lad, see yeh tonight Ally.”

_Ally_

As soon as he hangs up he’s shaking slightly.

_Ally_

A wave of bad memories crashes into him like an ocean wave, nails digging into his skin as he throws his phone onto the bed.

_No, it’s not the same, don’t think about him, they aren’t the same._

He checks the time, Jamie ought to be there soon, trying to distract himself with other thoughts. He’s trembling as he makes his way into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and forcing himself to breathe and relax. He knows he just needs to calm down, it’s only a panic attack, brought on by memories of a particular pet name. But that person was no longer in his life, and hadn’t been for months, he’d scarcely thought about him.

_I said he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?_

The lyric of one of his more recent songs rings through his mind as he recollects the rough memories. His eyes dart to the bathroom, and he aches for a fix to take his mind off the memories, but he knows Jamie will be upset. His nails are digging into his hands as he forces himself to breathe, in and out, in and out.

_I don’t need it, I’m fine._

His hands are trembling as he pours the fresh coffee into his cup, gulping down the hot liquid and scorching his throat, but he scarcely notices as his mind is still trained on one thing. That once innocent pet name, whispered over sheets with spilled beer and rough, forceful hands that left him with marks he still carries.

_Ally_

\---

Alex and Jamie are wandering about town a few hours later, having already dropped the new crib off at Jamie’s apartment and deciding to grab lunch down the road, Jamie’s treat.

“Still weird ta think yeh’ll be givin’ up bein’ a creature of the night,” Alex jokes, elbowing him in the side. Jamie shrugs, laughing it off.

“Well, I’ll probably still be up in the early hours dealin’ wif the kid, those things really are time suckers yeh know! Doubt I’ll get hardly a wink a sleep til he’s 18!”

They both laugh, arms around each other's shoulders. Alex was happy for his mate, Jamie was definitely falling into the fatherly role quite comfortably before the kid had even shown up. Since he’d found out Katie was pregnant, he’d constantly been making sure everything was ready for him, from making sure Katie was constantly okay, to buying anything he thought the kid would even only remotely need. He’d even picked up more shifts at his day job to have some extra cash on the side. Alex was happy to be a part of it in any way possible, estranged uncle and occasional babysitter to their happy little family, even if he wasn’t able to help much.

“So yeh got any new stories ta share wif me, Al? Seems like yeh encounter weirder blokes than I do birds!”

Alex blushes a little, trying to hide it, “Well um...got this new client recently. Met ‘im bout a week ago or so, seein’ ‘im again tonight actually.”

“Ooo, any dirty details to spill?” He elbows Alex with another chuckle, Alex rolls his eyes.

“Well if I’m bein’ honest...tha’ were some a the best sex I’ve eva ‘ad,” he shrugs. “An’ yeh know me, it’s just work normally, but this bloke, Christ was he good! Paid for the whole night, even gave me a lil’ extra for me troubles, he spent his time spoiling me even, makin’ sure I got off every time.”

“Sounds like someone is fallin’ for a client!”

“Quit bein’ daft! Am not!”

“Are too! I can see yeh blushin’!”

He shoves him aside and into a wall.

“Sod off yeh jackass!”

But his words are caught in his throat when he turns his eyes back to the path, only choking out a small response.

“It’s him.”

In all his fashionable glory, cloaked in a fur coat and probably a designer outfit underneath, Miles’ boots click along the pavement a few yards ahead of him, eyes concealed by reflective sunglasses. It was as if he’d appeared out of thin air at the mere mention of him. Snaked around his arm is the equally designer dressed Mrs. Kane, a much more put together version of her than he’d first seen compared to that dreadful morning. Her eyes are immediately trained on him, an evil smile curling around her red lips. He’s frozen, Jamie keeping his eyes on Alex, grabbing for his arm, but Alex was standing still as a statue. He gives them a small nod as they pass him by, keeping his eyes down, Mrs. Kane being the one to greet him so unkindly.

“Out of the way street rat!” she scoffs, shoving him into the wall with a rough push of a manicured hand, even with having the entire rest of the sidewalk. Miles says nothing, not bothering to give him a passing glance as they saunter past and down the street, chipping away at Alex’s dignity.

But he knows why she did it. She needed to show him his place, that he was nothing compared to them, and that he would only ever be nothing. They’re soon walking into a nice restaurant a little ways down the road, Alex has backed up to lean against the wall next to Jamie. He catches a few glances at them from the corner of his eyes, the last thing he sees being her wicked smirk as she walks into the restaurant, Miles trailing after her like an obedient dog.

“ _That_ jackass?”

Alex turns back to Jamie who he’d completely forgotten was there. His throat is suddenly parched, and he’s in desperate need of something to drink, alcoholic preferably. To not weaken his ego further, Alex just offers a nod, continuing down the street towards the deli and changing the subject.

“Lunch then? Could certainly use a drink.”

\---

They grab their lunch and head back to Jamie’s apartment. They settle themselves on the floor and open the box to see what they’re working with as they munch on sandwiches and crisps.

“Was bullshit what she did ta ya,” Jamie mumbles, chunks of bread and meat flying out of his mouth as he speaks. “They both seem like right cunts.”

“These instructions are weird, where’s this piece at?” Alex says, changing the subject just as quickly as it was brought up, fiddling with two different pieces of the frustrating mechanism that was supposed to make a crib.

“It’s okay to be upset, Al.”

“‘M not upset.”

“She fookin’ shoved yeh for no reason!”

Alex shrugs, sipping his beer, wishing he’d drop the subject. He knows why she did it, it happened, and he’d like to forget it. But it wasn’t the shove that bothered him, it was Miles’ lack of response.

“He ought to put a leash on that bitch,” Alex mumbles with a slight smirk.

“Seemed like she had one on him!”

They both laugh it off some, but Alex still has an aching feeling about the encounter. Miles seemed to have no intention of defending him or snapping at her for her ill tempered and childish behavior. The only thing that stung was his silent agreeance on one thing.

_Out of the way street rat!_

_Street rat..._

“Earth to Alex,” Jamie calls, trying to pull him back to reality. He snaps his fingers in front of his face, managing to pull him out of his deep rooted thoughts.

“Hmm? Sorry mate, yeh need these pieces?”

He nods, handing them over, and Alex decides to change the subject again.

“What’s the kid’s name again?”

“Forrest.” He snickers. “Yeh snort too much coke, think it’s replacing yer brain mate.”

“Well, I ‘aven’t ‘ad any today, thank you,” Alex announces proudly, getting up to grab another beer.

“Good to know Uncle Alex will be able to last at least an afternoon bein’ sober then.”

He freezes once he reaches the fridge.

“Would yeh stop sayin’ tha’ shit?” he says, pulling open the door to grab a drink and forcefully slamming it closed. “I don’t ‘ave a problem, Jamie, I can live wifout it."

“Bullshit,” Jamie answers, throwing a pair of the pieces he was struggling to fit together on the floor in frustration. “We aren’t havin’ this fight again, Al. It’s not my fault yeh suck random guys off for coke.”

“An’ you used ta shag old birds for drinkin’ money!” Alex retorts, raising his voice. “Don’ act like yer no better than me.”

The sound of keys jingling in the hallway soon leads to the door swinging open, Katie joining the duo with a couple bags of groceries, smiling at the boys.

“Finally got the crib I see,” she says, setting her bags on the counter near Alex. He’s noticeably tense, and she can immediately tell. “What’s going on here then boys?”

Not wanting to make a scene in front of her, Alex grabs his coat and beer and makes for the door.

“I’ll be off then,” he says, “don’t feel like fightin’ about the same old shit today.”

“Alex mate come on--”

He slams the door behind him and makes for the stairs, done furthering his shitty mood.

\---

He gazes at himself in his bathroom mirror, sunken eyes more visibly in the glowing yellow of the flickering fluorescent lights. Mrs. Kane’s words are stinging in the back of his mind, buzzing and overwhelming his thoughts. The entire scene was playing on repeat in his mind, and his eyes sting with tears as he thinks of Miles not jumping to his defense every time, in silent agreement with his wicked wife.

_Street rat._

_Street rat._

_Street rat!_

He cuts himself another line, snorting the blow quickly, letting the buzz numb his thoughts and the sudden burst of energy increase his mood. He felt as if everyone was against him in life, all he has is himself. Even Jamie was trying to act like he was any better, but in a way maybe he was, or he’d at least started to pull himself together.

His trembling fingers lightly trace the circles under his eyes as he wishes he could do better. But maybe...this was his better.

_Street rat!_


	6. Hold On To Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of writing inspiration lately! Hopefully I'll be able to use it efficiently haha, hope you enjoy this new chapter less than three days after the last one!
> 
> i'd also love to say thank you so much for the support and all the kind encouragement I've gotten to continue this story, it really brightens my day to see stuff in my inbox about a new comment or kudos. :)
> 
> Much love! Cheers! <3

Miles fixes his shirt collar in the mirror near the front door, smoothing back his hair for the millionth time, eager for his evening plans. Heels click down the stairs and he soon sees Hannah’s reflection next to his own before turning around to face her.

“Goin’ out tonight?”

“Tis the plan, haven’t gotten any action in a bit,” she jokes, eyes darting to the ground.

“Hannah I…” he pauses, trying to take time to consider his words. “Why did yeh do it?”

“Do what?”

“Push the poor bloke for no reason,” Miles sighs, walking towards the door. “He didn’t do nuffin’ to ya.”

She rolls her eyes, “That? What does it matter, Miles? You knew better than to let him in the house.”

He rubs his temples, shaking his head, “Tha’ doesn’t matter, you used to hate it when…”

“When what?” she says, crossing her arms. She waits patiently as his mind stutters to transfer his thoughts into words, knowing the wrong ones could set her off and ruin both of their nights. So he instead chooses to do like he always does, remain silent.

“Nuffin’,” he sighs, opening the door and making his way out. “Have a nice night, then.”

\---

Hank cruises the car down the familiar street, Miles’ eyes darting about before finally landing on Alex, hands wrapped around the hem of his jacket and pulling it tighter around him to shield the cool air. Miles smiles as they pull up to the curb, opening the door for him and Alex climbing in with a mumbled greeting, the car soon heading off back into the night. Miles wraps his arm around the boy, who stiffens slightly at his touch, refusing to make eye contact.

“Been a bit laa, ‘ow ‘ave yeh been?”

“Fine.”

His response rubs Miles the wrong way, his tone gritty and forced, and he can tell something is wrong. Then, the memory of that afternoon comes back to him. He was silent as he let Hannah shove the boy, his boy, aside and call him something so demeaning. He knew he was just as guilty as her, and Alex has every right to be angry with him. He lowers his voice, hand caressing Alex’s face and bringing the boy to look at him.

“Listen umm...I’m sorry ‘bout what ‘appened earlier, I shoulda said summat.”

Alex breaks away from his grasp, trying to shrug his arm off.

“Tis alreyt, don’ worry ‘bout it.”

“Al, I can tell it’s buggin’ yeh.”

“What does it matter anyways?” he says, facing Miles again. “‘M just yer little play thing, and tha’s all I’m meant ta be. Yeh both were joost remindin’ me a tha’ like everyone else I fuck.”

“Al quit bein’ daft, yeh aren’t a street rat. Yer different than any otha’ bloke I been wif, I ‘aven’t let anyone else stay the night wif me in ages, let alone bring em ‘ome an’ risk gettin’ caught by Hannah!”

He chuckles half heartedly, his voice cracking when he speaks. “Yeh don’t know me, who’s ta say ‘m any different?”

“Then lemme get ta know yeh,” Miles suggests, laying his hand on Alex’s thigh. Alex snorts.

“An’ wot would tha’ matter?” He grabs Miles’ hand, fingers intertwining. “An’ why would yeh want ta waste our time talking ‘bout me? Only reason yeh even know me real name is cause it slipped out when I weren’t thinkin’.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” he says. “I didn’ ‘ave ta tell yeh my real name neither, but I did. An’ I’m at higher risk of gettin’ in trouble than you.”

Alex laughs emptily, “Really? Yeh’d get arrested an’ ‘ave ta change yer name?”

“I’d never be able ta work again,” he confesses. “I’m the head of a very high end music studio, if I got found out, the media would slander me, I’d neva’ be able ta find work again. Hell, I’d risk losin’...everything!” He squeezes Alex’s hand with a smile. “Any a yer secrets are safe wif me.”

Alex watches their hands, looking deep in thought as he contemplates Miles’ words, the car pulling through the gates to the Kane household. They’re soon climbing out of the vehicle and heading for the door. Miles wraps his arm around Alex’s shoulders, only separating to gentlemanly opening the door for the lad. Alex seems confused by the kind gesture, mainly because he’s not already ravaging him like a dog in heat like their first encounter.

“I’ve got a different idea for startin’ the night,” Miles suggests with a smug look, making his way to the living room. Alex follows after him as Miles makes for a cabinet of decorative looking wine, pulling out a particularly tasty looking red bottle. He grabs a couple glasses and offers Alex a seat as he pours them each a glass, Alex still looking highly confused. Miles settles onto his comfy couch with a smile, looking to Alex expectantly. “Well, Alex, tell me ‘bout yerself then.”

Alex snorts again, looking at him as if he’s joking, Miles only raising an eyebrow.

“Yeh can’t be serious!”

“Why’s that?” he asks, sipping his glass. “Yeh deserve ta be treated like a human fookin’ bein’ and not joost a toy, like yeh claim yer used ta. Maybe I ain’t like any of yer otha’ “clients” yeh mentioned.”

Alex stares at him agape, and Miles is worried he’s pissed him off somehow before he throws his hands up in surrender before grabbing his glass and taking a gulp large enough to finish half the glass then.

“Well, where should I start?”

Miles shrugs, an idea springing to mind, “Let’s play two truths and a lie!”

It’s Alex’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “What are we? Thirteen?”

Miles rolls his eyes, “It’s a good way to start!”

“Fine,” Alex shrugs, taking a smaller sip of his drink. “Guess I’ll start then.”

Alex leans closer to him, over the coffee table that separates them only by a few feet, tapping his fingers together in his lap.

“I was an honor student in school, I been smokin’ since i was 18, an’ I dropped out a university when I was 19.”

Miles thinks a moment before offering an answer.

“The uni one, yeh don’ seem like a guy who’d do well in tha’ kind a learnin’ environment.”

“Yer right and yer wrong,” Alex laughs. “I tried it an’ um...joost didn’ do too well. Got distracted, became a slag off, an’ dropped out. Started smokin’ when I was 15.”

“Wot did yeh study?”

“Tried goin’ for music, but um...guess I weren’t meant for it.”

“Yeh play music? Wot yeh play?”

Alex shakes his head, waving him off, “Don’ matter, yer turn.”

“Umm...alreyt.” Miles pauses, disappointed in Alex’s lack of response but ignoring it for now. “I started runnin’ me own music studio when I was 27, were raised by a single father, an’...didn’ ‘ave me first experience wif a bloke til I was 23.”

Alex scoffs, “Easy, last one, yeh don’ seem like a bloke who waited til yeh were my age.”

“Incorrect,” Miles chides, pointing a finger at him. “Were raised by joost me mum mainly.”

“Yer kiddin’?”

“Wish I weren’t, stayed in the closet through almost all a school, tried convincing meself I was straight.” He sighs at the memories of hiding himself, falling back into the couch and finishing off his glass before pouring himself another. “Still technically in there, only ones who know are Hannah, couple a fellas I work wif an’ their wives that are friends a hers. An’ of course the blokes I been with.”

“Why’d yeh marry her anyways? She seems like a bitch who’s got yeh on a leash.”

Miles chuckles, “SometimesI dunno meself. We were good friends once, an’ she joost seemed ta change afta’ we got married and soon became pretty well known. Guess she figured out she could easily manipulate me by danglin’ me sexuality over me head with constant threats to out me if she didn’ get wot she wanted. We did if for show, obviously, joost so I can keep meself under wraps.”

“So yer trapped then?”

Miles goes silent, his turn to deflect an uncomfortable topic. “Rather not talk bout it now.”

He pours Alex another glass, Alex not furthering the conversation, and instead the lad decides to move over and join him on the couch.

“My turn, um…” Alex thinks a minute. “‘Ad me first kiss when I was 6, neva’ been wif a woman ‘fore, an’ ‘ad me first time at a party when I was 18 in exchange for some molly.”

Miles has to think a minute, all sounding very plausible, “Um...the first kiss one?”

“Well done,” Alex says, scooting closer to press his body against Miles, “‘Ad it when I was 13, an’ I only eva’ been wif one bird when I was 16, dreadful experience.”

They both chuckle, cuddling exceptionally close, the wine already working its way into their system.

“I been wif a few birds in my day, it joost always felt off ta me, like I forced meself to enjoy it,” Miles confesses, finishing off his second glass, setting down his glass and wrapping his arm around Alex, his free hand resting comfortably on his thigh.

“We done with this little game then?” Alex giggles, his lips on Miles’ neck before he can get an answer. Miles breathes a sigh, hungry for more, but still wanting to take time to get to know the boy.

“I um…” But his thoughts are interrupted as Alex’s hands quickly undo his belt, rubbing his growing erection through the thin cloth of his briefs. Their lips soon meet in a passionate kiss, Miles’ fingers fisting the boy’s hair as he holds him close, moaning into the kiss. Alex breaks it only to continue kissing down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt in the process and making his way down his chest. He pulls Miles’ cock from his briefs, stroking him a few times before taking him into his mouth. Miles’ eyes slide shut as he blows him, his fingers tugging at Alex’s roots. Alex stops momentarily, but continues stroking him with one hand.

“Should we go somewhere more...private sir?”

Miles nods, grabbing the boy’s hand and struggling some to stand, his mind swirling and the world shifting slightly from the wine as he leads him back to his bedroom, kissing sloppily and groping inanely the entire way. Once behind the locked door of Miles’ only room of true privacy, he presses the boy into the mattress, fingers softly raking through his hair as he admires the boy in his hold. His brown eyes are light and warm, but reflect the same lust contaminating Miles brought on by the weaker alcohol. He kisses him gently, one hand moving to undo his belt and slip into his pants. He moans weakly, cutely biting his lip. Maybe it was all an act, maybe all he really was to him was another client, measured in importance by the money lining his wallet. But in the brief moments of their encounters, everything felt so surreal, so calming, and with the sex he felt...a real connection he’d yet to feel with anyone else.

Every stroke of his hand had the boy whimpering and quivering, begging for more as things grew more heated, and Miles became more primal. Every moan, every sound driving him further, wanting the boy even more.

_If it’s all an act, he’s a damn good actor._

\---

Miles drags hard on a cigarette, falling back to lay in the soft fluffiness of his pillows. Alex snatches the cigarette from his fingers, taking a long drag and nearly finishing it off, smirking as he hands the butt back to him.

“If yeh wanted one yeh coulda just asked, yeh dick!” Miles ruffles his hair, Alex giggling and laying on his chest, wrapping his arm around his torso.

“But it’s fun buggin’ yeh an’ sharin’ yers!”

“Yer lucky yer cute.”

He giggles, snuggling up to rest in the crook of his neck as Miles finishes the cig, stubbing it out in the ashtray near his bed. The calmness of the post sex high was a comfort Miles wishes could last forever, or at the very least into the morning to avoid another awkward exit.

“Are yeh okay wif stayin’ the night again laa?”

“Maybe,” Alex shrugs, “See ‘ow I feel when I’m ready ta sleep, I guess.”

Before long, the boy is up again, eyes honing in on Miles’ guitar at his bedside, and without asking, he snatches it and starts fiddling with it. If it had been anyone else, Miles probably would’ve shrieked, but there is a certain sparkle in Alex’s eyes as his fingers glide across the strings, making for a lovely melody.

“So yeh play guitar then,” Miles chuckles, sitting up beside the boy. “Guess tha’ answers me question from earlier.”

“Yeh don’ mind me foolin’ wif it do yeh?”

“Nah, tis alreyt,” Miles says, listening eagerly to the pretty melody, the boy really wasn’t half bad. “Does it um...got any lyrics?”

Alex freezes, eyes meeting with Miles, and he almost thinks he sees a sense of fear in them, like a deer startled by the snapping of a twig.

“Um...no.” He hesitates. “It did but...I don’ really sing for no one anymore. ‘M really not all tha’ good.”

He sets the guitar back in its stand, laying back down beside Miles.

“Yeh don’ ‘ave ta be afraid a me, Al.”

Alex is quiet, fingers fiddling with the silk sheets, looking like he’s trying to mesh with the pillow and disappear.

“It’s joost...hard trustin’ anyone sometimes.”

Miles nods, choosing again not to press him, knowing if he wanted to tell him, it’d be in his own time. For now, he wanted to enjoy what he could.

He rubs his hand along the boy’s bare back, laying down to face him, hand moving to caress his face. He runs his thumb over his soft, rosey cheeks as Alex glances up at him again with those innocent brown eyes.

“Think I’ll stay the night then.”


	7. Fluorescent Adolescents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are to have an update so soon.
> 
> Was listening to the Abbey Glover song "I Wish You Liked Girls" while writing this!
> 
> Cheers! <3

Hannah takes a long draw on her cigarette, exhaling as she mindlessly flips through the channels on the TV in her hotel room. She was never one to stay around long after her affairs, but she wanted an excuse to stay away from home just a bit longer. Her man of the evening is getting dressed, and she promptly ignores him for the only slightly more interesting channel surfing, but alas he tries to start an awkward post koital conversation.

“So um...while I’m still here I guess, tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

She shrugs, flipping past reruns of shitty sitcoms.

“I’m a trophy wife mainly, nothing much to it other than lavish parties and affairs here and there. You know, the usual.”

He freezes after slipping his shirt on, laughing nervously, “Your husband isn’t gonna come after me though if he knew we fucked around...right?”

She finishes off the cigarette, stubbing out the embers in her nearby ashtray, waving him off before continuing her channel surfing.

“He doesn’t care, hasn’t been a part of my sex life in years,” she laughs as she lands on a romance movie, the two lovers kissing on screen to show their love to the world. “He does the same to me anyways.”

The guy, whose name has long since left her, slips on his shoes and makes his way towards the door.

“Sounds like you guys need counseling, or a divorce.”

“Well, that’s what the rich do dear, commit infidelity and waste money.”

He shuts the door behind him before she finishes, her eyes still glued to the screen on the lovers as the music swells. Her stomach twists and she abruptly changes the channel, flicking to the news and just letting the anchorman drone on.

She’d never really cared for romance stories, at least not since university.

Miles creeps into her thoughts as she considers lighting another cig, wondering what his evening escapades involved.

_He probably brought that kid over again._

She breathes out a shaky breath, remembering their conversation before he left.

_“Tha’ doesn’t matter, you used to hate it when…”_

_“When what?”_

He didn’t have to finish his point, she knew.

_When I was like the poor kid, lost and kicked down by the world._

\---

_Her first day of classes and she was already running late, of course._

_She barrels her way across campus, running at breakneck speed to not be any later. But of course, karma is a bitch, and as she checks her watch, she runs straight over someone and knocks them both to the ground._

_She opens her eyes, knee burning and probably skinned to hell, to see a hand offered to her._

_“Are yeh okay? Shit yeh were runnin’ so fast I barely saw yeh coming!”_

_Her eyes move from the hand to the source of the voice, landing on the boy she’d apparently knocked into. He looked young, shaggy brown hair and lit up hazel eyes, no anger or irritation in sight, only concern for her own well being. She licks her lips, heart racing as she takes the hand and he pulls her up._

_Apologies are tumbling out of her mouth as soon as she finds her tongue, “I-I’m so sorry! I’m already late for class and I guess I just wasn’t paying attention--”_

_“Hey hey! Tis alreyt, don’ sweat it,” he says, giving her a warm smile. He extends his hand again. “I’m Miles by the way, Miles Kane.”_

_Her cheeks are hot as she returns the smile, momentarily forgetting her name, “H-Hannah, Hannah Ware.”_

_She gingerly shakes his hand, a bit foolishly and loosely as her hand is trembling with adrenaline. She’s not sure if it’s from the run or Miles. He glances down at her knee, noticing how scratched up it had gotten from the impact._

_“Shit are yeh alreyt? Got a bandaid in here somewhere.” He starts rummaging through his bag for a bandaid, and before she can protest that she’ll be alright, pulls one out a couple and hands them to her.“There yeh are!”_

_“Thanks!” she says, unwrapping them and sticking them to her bloody torn up knee. “I coulda taken care of it myself though, you didn’t have to worry about it.”_

_“Nonsense! Happy ta help. Yeh said yer late, where’s yer class? I can come wif yeh an’ help explain why yer late.”_

_“Um it’s…” she fumbles with the paper in her pocket, scanning it for her first class. “Just down the hall, with Bradford.”_

_“Hey me too! I was running a bit late meself,” he chuckles, offering his arm. “Shall I escort the lady to her class?”_

_Her smile brightens, and she wraps her arm around his, “Gladly!”_

_\---_

_To her great luck, her and Miles had quite a few classes together, chatting up a conversation with every class time._

_“Yeh sure yeh ain’t joost stalkin’ me?” he teases. “Now listen, I know I look alreyt but I’m not that great--”_

_She swats at him, giggling like a fool, “As if! Bet you’re the one following me.”_

_Considering most of their classes were required electives for any major, she wasn’t sure what exactly he was going for. Maybe if they were studying the same thing she’d see him more and more each year._

_“So um… what’s your major?”_

_“Music production, wif a business minor, “He proclaims. “Wanna run me own studio someday, if I don’ become a rockstar first.”_

_“Rockstar huh? What do you play?”_

_“A few things, guitar mainly, can sing a bit, and I dabble with bass and percussion some,” he smirks. “Played sax in band when I was younger, awful dreadful at it though!”_

_“Well you seem pretty passionate about music, I’m sure you weren’t all that bad!” One of her hands fiddles nervously with her hair. “I’m a business major right now, not sure what I really wanna go for though, undeclared at the moment.”_

_“I’m sure yeh’ll figure it out eventually!” he claps her on the back, rubbing it sweetly. She nods and smiles._

_“Only going to uni to get away from my family mainly,” she shrugs. “Both my parents dropped out, we haven’t really been well off, and I want better.”_

_“Hey,” he says, giving her a gentle smile. “Yer gonna do better, I’m sure of it.”_

_She smiles back at him, their class soon dismissing with them barely paying attention on their first day._

_\---_

_Over the school year, they grow rather close, constantly enjoying each other’s company and spending most of their free time together. They got along so well that they began opening up to each other, Hannah confessing about her home life, the lack of interest her parents showed in her and how little they really respected her. She’d been taking care of herself since she practically started walking, her parents too busy or preoccupied to spend time with her. And Miles listened, constantly. She admired how much he respected her, how sweet he was, always making time for her, and she couldn’t help but fall head over heels for him. And she hoped he felt the same._

_One late night, they decide to join some other friends at a party, drinking, dancing, and babbling on about nonsense. And being the gentleman he was, Miles kindly toted her ass to her room, though both had gotten thoroughly intoxicated._

_A giggling, babbling mess, Hannah somehow manages to unlock and open her door, almost tripping over her feet before heading into the kitchen._

_“Lets keep the party going!” She calls to Miles, who makes his way in the small apartment and closes the door. “I have wine!”_

_“Lets slow down a bit, Hannah! I don’ ‘ave yer stamina!”_

_“Weakling!”_

_She makes her way back over to the sofa near where he stands, swaying slightly and propping himself on the arm of the sofa. She smiles as she makes her way over, inevitably tripping on her rug, dropping the bottle and both glasses, that thankfully don’t shatter. She instinctively closes her eyes as she falls, preparing for impact, only to land in a tight grasp. She opens her eyes to be face to face with Miles, their noses nearly touching. Their breaths mix, and she can smell the beer and whisky and whatever else he’d had to drink that night. Her breath hitches at the close contact, her heart racing as she urges herself to kiss him, knowing this was the perfect opportunity._

_She leans closer, still tight in his grasp, their lips meeting in a small kiss. Her fingers weave gently through his shaggy hair, holding him close, and he seems to have no inclination to pull away, kissing her back. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but she felt so confident in the moment, kissing him deeper and fisting her fingers into his hair. She pulls them over to the couch, and before long they’ve become a mess of sloppy kissing and flying fingers, fast to undo buttons and zippers._

_It was finally happening, after most of the school year and enough alcohol to bring them both confidence, the guy of her dreams was finally kissing her, touching her, confessing his feelings through his actions as much as she was. He wanted her too._

_She lays on top of him, kissing down his neck, his collarbone, his chest, a hand moving to grope him through his underwear, the last thing either of them had yet to take off. He was big, bigger than any of the few guys she’d been with before, and she was dying to shed their last layers and fuck to high heaven. She returns to kissing him and palming him through his briefs, surprised though that he didn’t feel hard yet. His fingers are running through her hair before freezing, one moving to her shoulder to push her away as he breaks the kiss, blushing profusely._

_“Hannah I...I can’t do this.”_

_She looks down at him confused, had she done something wrong?_

_“Why? What’s wrong? Did I do something?”_

_“No no no! Yer fne!” he says a little too quickly, profusely shaking his head._

_“Is it because you're not...hard yet? I can blow you if that’ll help--”_

_“N-No, it’s not that…”_

_She gets off of him, sliding to the other end of the couch as he sits up, and she can see him shivering._

_“Miles what is it? You know you can tell me anything!” She encourages, a hand rubbing his shoulder. He breathes out a shaky breath, and when he turns to look at her, she sees tears welling in his eyes, her heart breaking._

_“Hannah I...I think I might be gay.”_

_Her face visibly falls, her eyes widening._

_“B-But I thought, you--I thought you felt the same way--”_

_“I do joost…” he pauses. “I joost...I love yeh Hannah, an’ I’m sorry if I been sendin’ yeh weird signals or makin’ yeh think I liked yeh like that I…” he’s suddenly wracked with sobs as he keels over, his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry…I was too drunk and thought I could joost let this ‘appen, but I can’t do tha’ to yeh...”_

_Her eyes are welling up with tears, and they’re streaming down her cheeks in tandem with Miles’._

_“What if you’re not? Maybe you just haven’t found the right woman yet, maybe you’re just drunk and you’re thinking about it too much, maybe it’s just an emotional phase!” she moves in closer to him, trying to wrap her arms around him, bringing him to face her, eyes red from crying. She tries again to kiss him, but he just pulls away, standing up and tearing at his roots in frustration._

_“Hannah, I’ve felt this way for_ years, _” he claims, facing her. “I’ve tried bein’ with girls, but it joost...it always felt so forced, like I was tryin’ too ‘ard to enjoy it cause I know I’m supposed ta. I only eva kissed another bloke but...it felt so different, so comfortable, so much more real an’ it were...” He falls back onto the couch, choking on his words. “Yeh know how me mum would react if she knew? Or how hard it’d be ta find a job?” He’s wracked with another deafening sob before speaking again. “I hate it bein’ this way! I’m fookin’ terrified!”_

_He goes silent again, continuing to sob as she rubs his arm, not sure how to help calm him down. She was entirely thrown off, she didn’t expect this at all and had no clue what to say. She was thrown out in the middle of the sea with nothing to guide her. Her mind was racing, trying to connect her own feelings and help Miles at the same time. But selfishly, the thought that arose that broke her was entirely centered on herself._

_He didn’t love her._

_She joins him in a sobbing fit, unable to figure out if it was anger or heartbreak. She knew it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help it. But it didn’t stop her heart from breaking all the same. The man she had fallen in love with, one of the only men who’d ever really respected her, treated her like a human being, was gay._

_“Why can’t you just try again?” she sobs, her vision cloudy with more tears as she desperately tries to wipe them away. “I love you Miles! Why can’t you just try for me? I thought you loved me! We can make it work, maybe you’re just bisexual...” She chokes on her words, curling up into a ball in place. She was drunk, emotional, and acting selfish she knew, but she didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know how she should feel. How she should help. She didn’t even know if she could._

_She felt his warm arms wrap around her, holding her closer and stroking her hair, and she stiffened at his touch._

_“I love you Hannah, joost...not in that way.”_

_In their quickly sobering emotional state, they hold each other, tears soaking each other’s bare skin as the wine lay forgotten on the carpet._

_\---_

The cool night air breezes by her as she lights another cigarette between her lips, puffing away avidly. She couldn’t remember the last time she truly felt alive and brightened by an affair, and maybe...she was just a little jealous of that kid, getting what she’d wanted so long ago, and Miles obviously cared about him enough to risk getting in trouble sneaking him into the house.

“Maybe if I’d been born with a dick, we’d actually be happy,” she jokes to herself, checking her phone to call her driver. Hank soon pulls up, and she tosses her half smoked cigarette to the curb before climbing in. They wordlessly drive home as she thinks back on her college years, the days before riches, the days before heartbreak, even the days before Miles. She knows she shouldn’t have been rude to the kid, and even if it was jealousy, she knows there’s nothing she can do.


End file.
